Calm Tempest
by Sacred Sakura
Summary: You can try ignoring your past... You can try running away... But no matter what, it WILL come after you. Can these people find new hope for the future, despite the storms that trouble their souls? Mugiwaras, various OCs, OCcentric and Zorocentric
1. Prologue: Never Shed a Tear

_**Calm Tempest  
**_**A One Piece Fanfiction  
****by Sacred Sakura**

**Version: 2.0 (for Prologue and Chp. 1 only)  
****Published: 1/10/2005 (v. 1.0); 3/1/2006 (v. 2.0)**

**Rating: T  
****Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance?  
****Disclaimer: _Oda Eiichiro-sensei_ owns One Piece, not me. But Arashi, Yakusoku, and Yukino are _my_ property. (Oh, crumbs, that sounded wrong. SWEATDROPS)**

**Dedication: To Darkmaster2 for your, um, "support"**

**A/N: Writing abruptly like this (all period-happy and such) is not exactly the type of style I'm used to. Ah, well… It's working well so far. But I think this style's only going to be for the prologue. Well…enjoy? (Please R&R!)**

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* * *

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**Prologue: Never Shed a Tear For You**

Footsteps.

She could hear them in the distance. Cautious. Heavy. A man's.

She didn't care.

"Yukino-san," she whispered.

She stared at the bloody figure before her. The corpse, she knew, was cold as ice now—like the icy touch of steel against her forearm.

"I'm sorry, Yukino-san."

Her eyes were dry. And blank. They were not the demonic eyes of one who had gone mad. Nor did they possess the same dim, distant, and mysterious feel as before. Her eyes were now hollow, devoid of light, pervaded with nothingness. Dark orbs that had lost true emotion long ago.

"First Yakusoku-sama, now you…"

The footsteps stopped.

"It's my fault you both are gone…"

Silence.

"But now I can atone for your deaths…."

She raised the blade slightly, poised above her forearm.

"I already know that my soul is beyond saving…."

First one step, then another.

"I do not deserve to die an honorable death…"

A quick slash, firm, that cut deeply into skin. A tendon snapped; nerves screamed in agony. Viscous rivulets of life streamed over pale skin, further staining the blood-soaked wisteria kimono she wore a fresh crimson, the snow a deep scarlet. Yet no sound escaped her lips.

The footsteps increased in tempo.

'_God, please allow this sacrifice to atone for their deaths….'_

She collapsed over the pale corpse amid a growing pool of blood, vaguely sensing her life ebb away….

* * *

Green eyes. 

"Yukino…san…?" Her voice, a bare whisper.

She could sense movement, the cool touch of a saucer to her lips, the slow tread of water trickling down her throat.

But all she focused on were those eyes. **_His_** eyes.

"Finally conscious, huh?" Similar, but rougher, his voice. A voice tinged with hardship and toil. She would later recall sensing a tinge of grief there as well.

"You're…not…"

"Try not to say anything. You'll wear yourself out." Her mysterious caretaker removed his gaze and rose. A flash of tan, a black slip of cloth. "Get some rest."

The door slid closed softly.

She remembered the glint of gold amidst a green texture before losing consciousness….

**

* * *

I somehow feel that the latter portion of this "chapter" was rushed through… SIGHS **

**And sorry for the complete chapter-replacement confusion. (All of your old reviews—and v. 1.0 of this story--are saved on a word document. So if you want to read the old version, just e-mail me, and I'll send you a copy.)**

**Jaa ne!**


	2. Ch 1 Enter the Storm

_**Calm Tempest  
**_**A One Piece Fan Fiction  
****By Sacred Sakura**

**Final Conceptualization/Writing: 8/10-11/2006  
****Final Edits/Publishing: 11/28/2006**

**Rating: T  
****Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance  
****Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece; Oda-sensei does. I wish I did, though. However, this story and all characters not original to One Piece do belong to me.**

**Dedication: To Darkmaster2 for your, eto, "support"…**

**A/N: To be honest, I initially hadn't wanted to type the manuscript for this chapter up yet because I was still dissatisfied with its contents and such. However, publishing Tomorrow's Promise and Grand Line Kaigun "Eishi" helped inspire me to finally type this up. Please read my other fanfictions after this! R&R, onegaishimasu!

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**Chapter One: Enter the Storm**

_Two cloaked figures ran silently across the dew-laden grass, the worn hem of their hakama whispering in the night. Above them, the moon slunk behind dark clouds, disappearing in the cloak of darkness._

_It began to rain._

_Soon they reached a cluster of buildings nestled in the forest—lonely structures huddling in the sudden downpour. A single candle struggled to give light within the largest of them—the one most alone._

_The taller figure of the two quietly made his way up the stairs of the scarcely lit building; his companion hung back in the darkness of the woods, unaffected by the rain. The former knocked quietly on the wooden door._

_A moment later, someone from within gently—cautiously—slid the door open. "Yes?"_

_"Did you receive our message?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And the seal remained intact?"_

_"Yes."_

_"For how long may we reside…?"_

_"I can only guarantee two weeks at most; longer, and the others will become suspicious."_

_The cloaked figure was silent, thoughtful. Then, "It will suffice. It **must.** Thank you."_

_The figure from inside gave a slight nod, ending the whispered exchange. He allowed the visitor to enter._

_The cloaked man paused at the doorway. "Shiei."_

_His companion wordlessly followed him inside. The door slid shut._

_By dawn the rain stopped, unraveling a morning that shimmered crystal._

* * *

_Loguetown._

So modestly proclaimed the mahogany banner that framed the spacious entrance before her. Marble-white buildings, columned archways, and cobbled streets gave the sprawling city-town an aura of vintage and an air of relaxation. The island city brimmed with life.

She raised her left arm from underneath the steel-blue kimono she wore as a cloak, pushing away a strand of bluish black hair from her pale gray eyes. Then, pulling the low brim of her conical straw hat down to shield most of her face, she stepped away from the wooden dock and entered the large town. In mere seconds she disappeared within the bustling crowds, as if she were no more than a phantom.

'One more to destroy….'

The only proof, then, of her existence was a small wooden coracle docked at the Loguetown port. Anchored beside it, delicate yet grand, rested a caravel carrying a grove of mikan trees and displaying a pirate flag.

A caravel with the cheerful name of _Going Merry_.

* * *

_Two figures pored over a large volume in the dim candlelight: one a young man, aged and scarred by years of toil and grief; the other a youth, hardened by innocence never known._

_"Aren't they beautiful, Arashi?" the young man whispered in awe, his voice soft despite the pain and hardship laced within. "The infamous _Odayaka na Yumi_…"_

_He shook his head, natural ash-gray locks pulling away from his slack ponytail. "They should have been **your** inheritance…but…"_

_"But they require a heavy sacrifice for anyone to possess," the girl finished for him. "I know."_

_"And yet one wonders…" the man murmured, half to himself, "…whether these bows…worth more than even the powers of the Odayaka clan itself…are worth the sacrifice of one's own soul…."_

_The child's odd gray eyes flickered to meet his now-distant alexandrite gaze. A mysterious wisdom—imbued in eyes that glowed silver in the midst of storms and within the darkest abyss of night—reflected in a voice too mature for a child of her age. "It is not so much one's own soul that is sold…. Rather, the price to be paid is the very heart of one's own soul, one's innermost desire…**the very fabric of one's existence…**_

_"…**Kokoro no kokoro."**_

_The young man's eyes widened in surprise at the girl's unnerving percipience._

_'An Odayaka, yet not…' He reached out a scarred hand and stroked the young girl's closely cropped dark hair, an unusual bluish-black. The delicate yet hardy strands gleamed sapphire-blue in blinding sunlight; they whispered faint indigo under the caress of a lavender-hued silver moon. Like silk woven from the very darkness itself. How her midnight hair and unearthly steel-gray eyes had come into existence, he did not know._

_'Perhaps such mysteries should be left alone,' he had thought when they first met. 'Perhaps **this** is the way some things are, and must remain. A secret that only God can know and understand.'_

_"Arashi," he murmured softly, caressing her silky hair, "you will instead inherit Mizugami, the Kanshisha family's most prized possession. You may not be of my flesh and blood, but you are the best daughter I could ever have."_

_He leaned forward, his smile gentle. "Promise me you'll take great care in using this treasure of ours to protect others."_

_She responded with a level gaze. "Should I fail…**I shall commit harakiri."**_

_He stared at her for a moment, then nodded slightly. He understood._

_But as the pain inside him welled up, he prayed. 'God…please let her meet someone who can change her… Someone who can help her transcend the **Odayaka na Noroi**… Someone who can melt the fortress of impenetrable ice that is her heart…' An appeasement to Heaven above._

_'…And soon…' His body was failing him; he'd known it for years. Such fragility was the punishment of servitude to the Odayakas. To Kageki._

_'…For it will not be long before I must depart from this world….'

* * *

_

The vivid yet whisper-like memory dissipated as quietly as it came, like the rising smoke from the fire before her.

There was little she could remember before her attempted death—in reality, almost nothing. The man was her foster father, but she knew nothing more. But something deep inside told her that she had failed. An innocent had died by her hand. Her suicidal endeavor had been unsuccessful.

And she had killed many people—too numerous to count.

Mizugami was a terrible reminder of that. Its rust-colored stave, stained with the blood of many, screamed whenever she loosed an arrow. Long after the shafts had made their mark, she continued to hear the agonized wails of those who fell to the intensity of her rage. Rage that had offered no mercy to its victims.

Even now, while watching the accursed yumi burn, she could still remember the acrid stench of charred flesh. Still taste the metallic tang of the blood she had been drenched in. Still feel the numbed pain in her bloodied fingers, unrealized until hours after her rage had subsided.

The "memories" never left her.

So she burned Mizugami, if only to stop the visions from coming, if only to make the vivid imprints on her senses go away.

The fire before her shriveled as its fuel supply dwindled to almost nothing. Then mere ashes, which she gathered and scattered in the wind. The gray particles reached for the sun, then fell.

The "memories" dissipated.

"You there!" a voice called out into the alleyway. "What do you think you're doing?"

She shook away the lingering wisps of memory from her mind, relieved to forget. She turned to see a pair of men blocking the entrance to the alleyway she stood in. White shirts, white caps, navy blue pants, and black shoes. 'Marine uniforms…'

"Don't you know that non-domestic combustion of materials is **prohibited** in Loguetown!?" the first marine demanded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

She did not respond.

"Okay, it looks like you'll have to come with us," the marine said, stepping forward. "Accompany us to Loguetown Marine Headquarters for questioning with no resistance, and there'll be no trouble."

She remained where she stood, the conical straw hat on her head hiding the blank expression on her face.

"Sir, we have no choice but to escort you forcibly due to your lack of cooperation," the second marine declared, impatient. He and his partner moved forward, drawing their swords.

She chose this moment to escape. With a swiftness that seemed almost inhuman—and indeed, the training she had undergone to obtain it so many years ago had indeed been merciless and nearly unbearable—, she sprinted forward, striking the two men at the correct pressure points in the neck as she sped past them.

Before the bodies of the unconscious men hit the ground, she had already turned a corner and vanished amidst the crowds that milled about the city-town.

* * *

A girl carrying a freakishly large paper bag in her arms paused to push back her tangerine locks. She peered up at the sky. 

"Eh? The air's different…"

Arashi, close enough to hear her, paused. 'So it is.'

'The barometric pressure has dropped,' Nami noted (for indeed it was she), looking at the barometer she'd pulled out.

Arashi could sense the ominous presence that lurked amidst the cumulus clouds of fair weather. It was her namesake. It ran through her very blood.

Two young women. A skilled navigator, outgoing, beautiful, and cunning. A skilled former assassin, introverted, mysterious, and endowed with abilities she never wanted. Two women, two opposites. One resonating thought.

'**A storm's coming.'

* * *

**

_'A storm's coming.'_

_The beryl-eyed young man looked up from the massive volume open on his lap to the dark-haired young girl sitting at the bow of their small caravel. His gaze then carried itself to the cloudless dome of azure that towered above them. It breathed beauty and innocence._

_"Arashi…"_

_"We have two minutes until it hits," Arashi interrupted. Her eyes flashed silver. "That is how the Grand Line works, Yakusoku-san."_

_He stared, beholding the girl's unearthly power. 'That…is not entirely true. No one—**not even an Odayaka**—can predict the ebb and flow of the Grand Line…'_

_Dark clouds stampeded in the west, and more began to emerge in the north. Heavy winds carried the waves to heights of two, three, five meters… And the air pressure continued to drop dangerously low._

_'…much less the **very elements** that control it—the **air**, the **sky**, the **very sea itself!!!'**_

_Arashi looked up. "Tch. I was thirty seconds off. No, make that fifteen."_

_She remained at the ship's fore while Yakusoku retired to the main cabin._

_"This storm will send us back to our pursuers…" the girl murmured._

_He peered through the cabin's porthole, pressing his trembling pale hand against the ice-cold glass. There was no need to strain to hear her words; her voice was somehow quite audible despite the rumblings of the oncoming storm._

_"…That is…**if they can survive it…."

* * *

**_

"There you are!" a voice called out behind her.

"Eh?"

She could see the all-too recognizable white shirts and blue scarves typical of the noncommissioned Marine officer uniform. The two marines she had knocked unconscious earlier had returned—with backup. At the moment they were charging across the street toward her, cutlasses and rifles drawn.

She let out an exasperated and annoyed sigh that came out as a low growl. "Why can't the damn Marines just let alone?" she muttered.

"Halt!! You are under arrest for the illegal combustion of non-domestic materials, and for attacking Marine personnel!!"

Gray eyes flashing, she turned her back on the uniformed men and sprinted down the street, her steel-blue kimono billowing in her wake, revealing the hem of the dark blue kimono she wore underneath.

She was headed west.

* * *

It had begun to rain. 

**THESE ARE THINGS THAT CANNOT BE STOPPED.**

She had no choice but to dispatch her pursuers with swift kicks and sharp jabs to their pressure points several blocks previous.

**INHERENT WILL…**

She had to reach the Grand Line with as little interference as possible.

…**THE DESTINY OF THE AGE…**

The heavens themselves appeared to have released their wrath in the form of an unmatched deluge.

_Kami no Hageshii Ame._

…**AND THE DREAMS OF ITS PEOPLE….**

Or perhaps it was not Heaven's wrath, but tears.

There, at the Grand Line, she would exact her revenge. There, she could atone for her sins.

**AS LONG AS PEOPLE CONTINUE TO PURSUE THE MEANING OF "FREEDOM"…**

She had almost reached the port.

Or…perhaps…a sign of the gods'—or **God's**—approval.

…**THESE THINGS WILL NEVER CEASE TO BE.**

Her kimono, sopping wet from the downpour, whipped fiercely in the rain and wind. The trailing hem slapped the tall cloaked figure she sped past.

Perhaps all of these things, and more.

**-GOLD ROGER-**

For Heaven above is always aware of "inevitability."

A tattooed man headed in the opposite direction. He murmured something thoughtfully.

Destiny.

**-PIRATE KING-**

"A pirate, eh…? Not bad…"

_Hitsuzen.

* * *

_

"Ca-Captain Smoker, sir!!" a marine panted, clutching his side in pain as he ran across the Marine ship's wet deck, made slippery by the rain. He saluted.

"Eh?" The silver-haired Marine Captain of Loguetown Marine Headquarters turned from the dark-haired woman he had been speaking to. "What is it?"

"S-Sir! We were attacked!"

"That's rather obvious, don't you think?" Captain Smoker exhaled a great deal of cigar smoke from his mouth. "Now I'm sure you wouldn't be stupid enough to waste my time right now with statements of the obvious while we are pursuing a dangerous pirate without a **really good reason.** So spit it out!"

"Sir! Apologies, sir! Won't happen again, sir! Our unit was attacked by someone who had to have come from the Grand Line. We don't know who it is for sure, but we have a good lead." The marine held up a faded Wanted poster, soggy from the rain. "The perp dropped this while evading pursuit."

"The hell? You've gotta be kidding me." The captain stared at the faded lettering, at the blurry picture that was becoming even more indistinguishable as the poster warped and sagged from being waterlogged.

"Eh?" The dark-haired woman stepped forward to see the poster better. "Smoker-san, what is it?"

'The Odayakas have been inactive in all four Blues for decades! Why the hell would someone still hang around here in search of **this one?!' **He glared at the subordinate officer. "What makes you so sure that this is the real thing? How do you know that this isn't just some random bounty hunter with high ambitions and little talent?"

The sergeant paled. "B-because," he replied, trembling with fear and pain, "I saw his eyes…"

The poster was almost completely saturated, save for one highly distinguishable feature.

"…His eyes… They matched…"

Silver eyes that seemed to outshine the very moon itself.

"…the one in the Wanted poster…"

* * *

Silver mist surrounded her. Enveloped her. Cold, cold silver mist. 

'Where am I?'

A voice called out to her in the mist. "Arashi."

'Who are you?'

The voice, so familiar. Soft. Faint. Delicate.

"It's me…" Soft green eyes glowed behind the murky haze. Such familiar eyes. Like jade. "Yu…ki…"

The voice was interrupted by another. _"Are you awake?"_

The mist began to clear.

_Her eyes opened. Eyes as dark green as a midnight forest stared back at her._

_"Sensei! She's awake!"_

_She sat up slowly, holding her head as a wave of sudden dizziness overcame her. 'Feels…like anesthetic…'_

_She looked up. The source of the voice had already left. But within a few minutes, two men entered the room. The first man, bespectacled, strode forward, his gray kimono trailing behind him. His dark hair, tied behind his back, framed his aged face. The other appeared much younger—a close-fitting white shirt, black pants, skin evenly tanned by the sun. He lingered by the door, his gaze fixed on the wall to his right as he uncomfortably tugged at the haramaki around his waist—several shades darker than his cabbage-green hair. As if he didn't want to be here._

_"How are you feeling?" asked the former of the two, kneeling to a seiza position by her futon mat._

_She shook her head briefly, trying to clear it. "All right, I guess…." She looked at the man seated before her. "Where…where am I?"_

_"At our humble dojo."_

_"And how…?"_

_"Zoro found you almost dead not far from here. It's a good thing he did; you'd lost a lot of blood." The man turned to the subject of his words. "Zoro, please introduce yourself to our—"_

_He stopped. The young man had left._

_"Er—Please excuse my pupil's rudeness," the man said apologetically._

_She shook her head. "It's all right." She looked down at the dark blue kimono on her person. "Anou… Was I wearing a different kimono before…?"_

_"Ah…yes… Your kimono was heavily stained with blood, so we had to change you into another one." Again, apologetic. "I'm so sorry, but…well…we had to burn it…there was so much blood…"_

_A faint wisp of memory struggled to surface. '…Eishi…will you wear this for me…?' But it sank back down into the darkness._

_"Your kimono…a wisteria design, wasn't it? Very beautiful." The man smiled sadly. "My daughter would have worn one just like it, but…well…she passed away."_

_A sharp pain shot through her forearm. "Ah!" She clutched her bandaged wrist tightly._

_"Are you all right? Does the wound still hurt?"_

_"Y-yes…"_

_"I'll bring some more herbs to ease the pain." As the man stood, he looked troubled. 'Physically, she has healed enough that the pain should be minimal.'_

_"Someone will come shortly to deliver your meal until you feel well enough to eat with us." His smile was genuine, yet strained with concern for the invalid. 'Something terrible must have happened for her to commit suicide and still feel the pain even after sufficient time for recovery.'_

_Her voice came out in a bare whisper._

_"Hm?" The man paused at the doorway._

_The words, they were foreign to her. Words she had only heard others use, having never employed them herself. Yet she said them anyway, despite the pain. Despite knowing that this was not what she had wanted at the time of her grief. She spoke the words with apprehension. Unsmiling._

_"Thank you…."

* * *

_

**Well, what do you think?**

**:D**


	3. Ch 2 Clash of Swords I

_**Calm Tempest  
**_**A One Piece Fan Fiction  
****By Sacred Sakura**

**Conceptualized/Written: 12/7, 18-25/2006  
****Published: 12/26/2006**

**Rating: T  
****Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance  
****Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece; Oda-sensei does. I wish I did, though. However, this story and all characters not original to One Piece do belong to me.**

**Dedication: To Darkmaster2 for your, eto, "support"… and…TO MY WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL REVIEWERS!!! (Please review more.)**

**A/N: Ehhhhh…. I had writer's block… Gomen….  
****And yeah, I know, Myome needs to see a shrink. Oh, and the reason why she doesn't wear her sword is because seducing people usually works out pretty well.  
****Gahhh… I spent too much energy on the middle section of this chapter… That's why—to me, anyway; hopefully you'll think differently—the third section is so pathetic.**

**Please review! They're my only sustenance these days… (Review replies are at the end of the chapter.)

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**

**Chapter Two: Clash of Swords I**

_"Please be respectful toward Yakusoku-san and his son, Shiei-kun. They are the dojo's guests and therefore must be treated with courtesy." The kind-faced sensei pulled out a pair of shinai from the barrel of bamboo swords beside him. "Shiei-kun, too, is a student in kenjutsu, and Yakusoku-san would like to see how he fares in matches with fellow students his age. Would anyone like to volunteer for the first match?"_

_The students exchanged nervous glances._

_Suddenly, the wooden sliding door slammed open. **"Sumanai!! Osoku natta!!!"** a short boy yelled, huffing from exertion. "I was up early training and lost track of time! I understand that that is no excuse, but I apologize anyway!!"_

_"Ah, Zoro." The sensei smiled. "Would you like to spar with our guest Shiei-kun? If so, I will overlook your tardiness this time."_

_The boy scratched his marimo-green head as he studied the lanky boy before him, then grunted in consent. "Fine."_

_Both boys took their shinai—Zoro one in each hand—and readied their stances._

_The pale-skinned Yakusoku, seated seiza beside the dojo sensei and the other adults, watched grimly. 'Shiei…be sure to hold back. We don't want to draw too much attention….' He closed his eyes. 'And please…**don't** use **that…'**_

_"Oi, you all right?" a man next to him asked._

_He smiled weakly, his countenance beginning to match the color of his white shawl. "I'm fine."_

_A man standing against the wall raised his arm, acting as referee. "Ready…and **begin!"**_

_Zoro grinned, cocky. "Oi. You. I'm currently the best student at this dojo, and I'm really strong, too. So don't underestimate me."_

_The lanky boy smiled, mirthless. "I won't."_

_"Then why don't you get rid of those sunglasses so you can see better? Then you won't look like a loser when I beat you."_

_"Sorry, but I need them for my eyes. Let's just say that they're a little…**sensitive."** The odd smile slightly grew. "However, if they bother you that much…" Shiei whipped them off and tied a slip of black cloth around his closed eyes. "…I'll just have to do this."_

_"Wh-what the hell are you playing?" the marimo head demanded angrily. "You can't fight me **blindfolded!!"**_

_"You are free to make the first move."_

_"Damn it all! Fine, then! If your ass gets whupped, it ain't my problem!!" Frustrated, Zoro charged._

_"You think I can't fight with one of my senses removed? **Think again."**_

_Before the short boy knew it—before anyone else knew it, really—he was down on the ground, rubbing sorely at the new bruise on his head, his shinais rolling on the floor around him._

_Yakusoku sweatdropped. 'Shiei… You don't ever listen, do you? I've told you numerous times before not to use your full strength.' He sighed. 'Then again, it's in your blood, isn't it? That rebellious streak….'_

_Shiei propped his shinai against his shoulder. "You were saying?"_

_"D-damn it…!!" Zoro leaped to his feet, shinais once again in hand. "Again!!"_

_"You'd better be giving your all this time," Shiei remarked, pointing his shinai at the short boy. "You were holding back before."_

_"Don't worry. I won't."_

_A smile, almost genuine this time. "Good."_

_"Ready…and **begin!"**_

_Zoro charged. 'I'll get you this time!!' He swung with two consecutive strokes, certain he had hit his mark._

_But his target was not there._

_"**Too slow."** A shinai dug into his side, knocking him down with a painful crash._

_"Sh-shit…!!" Zoro clutched his side, rising._

_"Again?" 'He can get up? Impressive….'_

_"Yeah! That was just a fluke!_

_"Ow!!_

_"Again!_

_"Ow!_

_"Again!!_

_"Ow!!_

_"**Again!!!**_

_"**Ow!!!**_

_"**AGAIN!!!"

* * *

**_

"Oi. You."

"Eh?" Slumped in a sitting position, she pushed up the brim of her conical straw hat.

A young boy of ten stared down at her. "What are you doing here, Mister?"

"Resting, of course."

"Are you a ronin or something?"

A bemused smile tugged at her dry lips. "What makes you think I am?"

He pointed at the black scabbard by her side. "You got one of those samurai swords."

"A katana. So?"

"Yeah, those things. Don't you know that weapons are banned on this island? You're not allowed to be in poste—pozzess—"

"'Possession.'"

"Yeah, that. You can't carry one around while you're here."

"And why is that?"

"W-well…" The boy scratched his scruffy brown hair, fumbling for the answer that he couldn't remember. "Because…because you're not."

"On whose authority?"

"… The Marines."

She blinked. "The Marines?"

"Yeah." The boy scratched his head again, trying to remember. "Captain Myome—the marine in charge of the islands around here—made that rule to make sure we stay safe."

"Safe? From what?" She snorted. "A band of pirates could violate that ban and plunder the islands before the Marines could do anything about it. Putting up an arms ban would only serve to further weaken the populace."

"Still…" The boy looked around nervously. "You still shouldn't carry a sword while you're around here. You could get killed."

She shot a sleet-gray glance at the boy. "They administer the death penalty for simply carrying a weapon—even if it's for the purpose of self-defense?!?"

"Yeah… I…should go now… I just came to warn you, Mister, about that rule…" The boy quickly scurried away, lest someone should witness him conversing with a criminal. 'Sensei…I hope he got the message….'

"So the possession of a blade is a capital offense here?" she murmured, sitting back. "That's odd…." Her mouth set itself to a grim line. "I know I shouldn't dawdle, but I suppose…"

'…revenge can wait one more day.'

* * *

"I need to speak to your superior officer." 

"…Eh?" A sleepy marine at the front counter of the Marine Office Headquarters looked up, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. His gaze fell to the sheathed sword at the visitor's side and widened.

"I need to speak to your superior officer concerning the current arms ban in place."

Dumbfounded by the blatant display of noncompliance to a Marine-established rule, the marine said nothing.

The visitor glared at him with piercing pale gray eyes. **"NOW."**

The marine snapped out of his stupor and scrambled to dial the Den Den Mushi on the counter. "R-right away, sir!"

* * *

The back of a black leather chair faced the visitor. "What is it?" 

The kimono-clad woman had been silent upon entering the Marine captain's office. Instead of immediately replying, she took the time to examine the austerely furnished room.

A few frames graced the cobalt walls, none of which were hung for decorative purposes. The few affixed to the cold walls declared the military exploits and promotions of a Captain Myome. Hardly any furnishings filled the empty gray room, save for a functional lacquer desk containing only a Den Den Mushi, a peculiar potted plant set beside the desk, and the black leather chair behind it.

"Well? I don't like to be kept waiting," a cultured voice—an infusion of sultriness and ennui—warned.

"Of course. My apologies." The woman removed her straw hat. "I have come to inquire of your reasons for placing an arms ban in this locality. From my knowledge, it is not under your jurisdiction, nor your authority, to institute such a ban."

"Hmph. And what of it? You'll report me?" The figure seated in the black leather chair turned to face her. **"You do not realize who you are dealing with."**

The kimono-garmented woman stared at a ghost of her past.

* * *

_"That was rather foolish." _

_The sweating dark-haired youth paused in his washing by the stream to view his addressor. Before him stood a young woman, her arms crossed over a voluptuous chest barely encased in the standard marine recruit uniform—white shirt, blue scarf, dark blue pants. Her long black hair had been loosely tied for the previous training exercise. Vivid green eyes examined him beneath dark bangs._

_"You shouldn't have talked back to the training officer," she remarked. "You could have gotten a real whipping."_

_"And what of it?" He resumed washing the blood and dust from his face, neck, and hair._

_She eyed him curiously. "You have talent, yet you try to hide it with insubordination, making everyone either hate or resent you."_

_He toweled off. "What does it matter to you?"_

_She smiled. "Just want to know how you tick, is all."_

_"Good luck with that." Irritated, he made a move to walk away._

_She strode over and grasped his arm, pulling him close. "In what sense?" she whispered in his ear, her voice licentious, her jade-green eyes filled with desire._

_Startled, he pushed her off and backed away, his pale gray eyes locking onto hers, then averting._

_She laughed. "The name's Sakanmyō Ryokuna. It sure was nice talking to you, Eishi."

* * *

_

Those same mysterious bottle-green eyes raked her form. The possessor of those eyes had not realized that "he" was a "she." But then, no one at the Marine training base had known "his" true gender—that of a woman.

The woman reclining in the leather chair before her had changed little from the young woman she had known then; many of her features and attributes remained untouched by time and experience. Still intact: the long, jet-black hair that felt silky to the touch; the voluptuous body she had taken pride in, swathed in a slim kimono adorned with a sakura pattern; the pale, slender form popular with the males at the training camp; the awareness of her power as a woman, as an object of lust, that continued to be seen in her eyes.

Yet those eyes had changed. While the left iris remained the same verdigris that breathed of poison, the right had become a shocking vivid turquoise.

"You look familiar," the Marine captain observed thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing with interest. "Have we met?"

"I have come here to see Captain Myome, not his mistress," the visitor—formerly "Eishi," now "Arashi"— said curtly, having recovered from her shock.

"You **are** speaking to Captain Myome." The marine stood and walked around the desk to examine the person clothed in somber kimono before her more closely. "Are you sure we haven't met?"

Arashi gritted her teeth. "As stated before, I have come to inquire of your reasons for placing an arms ban in this area—**not** to dawdle with idle, meaningless chatter."

Myome's eyes widened. "Of course! Now I recognize you! 'Eishi-kun'!" She smiled with gratification, standing only ten centimeters away from Arashi, and pushed back the visitor's long bangs to inspect "his" face more closely. "Yes, indeed it **is** you!"

Arashi backed away, anxious and irritated. "I—I don't—"

Myome stepped closer, forcing Arashi against the wall, pressing her body up against "his." "For so long, I thought you were dead…," she whispered, longing in her eyes. A longing that had festered over the years from loneliness of the soul.

Arashi stared her down, her eyes void of feeling. "Eishi **is **dead."

"No! He's not!" Myome exclaimed, wrapping her arms around "his" neck. **"You're** not!"

"Do realize," the woman clothed in somber colors whispered icily, pushing the possessed Marine captain away, "that I am a criminal according to your ban. And since I carry a sword, I can kill you at this moment if I so choose."

Myome slumped, releasing her grip. "Very well, then." She strode over to her lacquered desk and pulled open a drawer. "Then it is my duty as Marine captain to enforce the law I have made"—she withdrew a medium-sized scabbard, azure in color "—and execute you."

She smiled sadly. "If I can't have you, then no one else will."

She drew the wakizashi and became a pink blur.

Drawing her katana with her left hand, Arashi instinctively parried the attack with the back of her blade.

Myome grinned. "It's good to see that your swordsmanship skills haven't deteriorated." She leaped forward, attacking from the left.

"But tell me, Eishi," she said as Arashi's blade crossed hers, "why do you use your left arm to wield your sword?" Her eyes narrowed, darkening with anger. **"Am I not worthy enough for you to use your full strength against me—with your right hand?"**

Arashi's pale gray eyes told nothing.

The jade-eyed woman withdrew and then resumed attacking with swift, consecutive slices. Her opponent blocked every one, parrying at times, deflecting others.

"**We were fellow recruits in the Marines, you and I!"** the Marine captain thundered, her hair flying wildly as her attacks became more and more desperate. **"And then, on our first assignment as Nitōhei—I almost died!!"**

She stopped, breathless, her blade pointed to the floor, and looked up, her lovely face—a face that had countless times seduced many into bending under her will—twisted ugly with anguish.

"What happened?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why didn't you try to recover my body, at the very least? Then I wouldn't have suffered so much." Her free hand went to her discolored eye. "Then **this **wouldn't have happened. And my beauty would have remained untarnished."

Her opponent offered no words of comfort. "Your beauty?" Arashi asked quietly, lowering her sword. "Is that all you care about? Something as shallow as that?"

"Eishi…"

"So beauty really is skin deep." A scornful laugh.

"Beauty…," Myome hissed, "is **power.** When utilized to its full potential, it can obtain **anything."**

Arashi's mouth set itself to a thin line. "Superficial beauty is nothing. It is useless." She gestured toward the colorless, nearly empty room around her. "What has beauty given you? Position? Greed? False wealth? They all perish with time."

"Y-you're wrong!" Myome protested. "Beauty has given me **everything! **I can't live in this world without it!"

"And yet," remarked the gray-eyed woman, studying the fine tip of her blade, "you continue to struggle in search of something to fill the emptiness in your soul…while thousands elsewhere enjoy the life they've been given; though born or raised in this cursed age, their hearts are filled with the sense of being complete. And yet yours…remains a void."

Overcome with desperation, Myome rushed forward, abandoning her weapon, and pinned the swordswoman to the black carpet, inadvertently knocking her katana away.

"At the very least I will have you," the emerald-eyed woman breathed into her ear, gazing longingly into Arashi's cloud-gray eyes. "Even you cannot resist my beauty and touch."

"**You wretched, pitiable woman."** Taking hold of her katana on the carpet, the woman of bluish raven hair flipped the Marine captain over so that their positions were reversed. She embedded the blade deep in the floor next to Myome's neck.

"**This sword,"** she hissed, her eyes glowing silver, **"is not for you."** She stood, removing the katana from its place in the carpet, and sheathed the blade.

As Marine Captain Myome lied on the suddenly cold floor of her office, her jade eyes filling with tears of loss, Arashi left a parting message.

"**Eishi is dead. The bounty hunter Arashi, reborn, has come to take his place and absolve his sins."

* * *

**

_She peered from behind a faded tree at the edge of the clearing and observed the green-haired man training there._

_"What do you want?" the man demanded, turning around to face his silent audience._

_Sweat soaked his white tee, causing the fabric to stick to his tanned skin and further accent his muscular form. He held two shinai in his hands and removed the one in his mouth._

_"Well?"_

_The woman brushed back a lock of dark hair and stepped away from the shade. "Gomen. It's just… I wondered… Could I perhaps try…?"_

_The man stared at her for a moment in disbelief. "Wield a shinai…in **that**?"_

_She blinked. "Eh? What do you mean?"_

_"Your clothes." He turned away to pick up the training equipment scattered all over the clearing. "They're not exactly easy to train in."_

_She examined the dark blue kimono on her person. "I can try anyway."_

_"Don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered. "Here." He tossed over a shinai behind his back, which her left hand deftly caught._

_Surprised, she looked at the shinai more closely. 'How…?' She raised her eyes to the strong figure of the man before her. "Anou… Will you spar with me?"_

_"No."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Have one of the other students do it."_

_"… You didn't answer my question."_

_"It's not like I have to."_

_She was silent, pondering the reason for his refusal. Then, "I suppose you're right. Sorry for the inconvenience."_

_Dropping the shinai onto the ground, she rotated on her heel and left as quietly as she had come.

* * *

_

_"You want to become a student?"_

_"Hai." She nodded._

_'Why the sudden interest?' the dojo sensei wondered. "Well… I suppose you may…."_

_"Then… Do you have any clothes that are more suitable for training?"_

_"Eto…let me think…," the kind-faced man murmured, thoughtful. He gestured toward a few wooden trunks set against the wall behind them. "I believe there may be some in one of those chests by the wall…"_

_As she began to rummage through the various random clothes and accessories, the sensei walked to the shōji. "I'll leave you to change," he told her before gently shutting the door._

_She nodded distractedly, busy sorting through the miscellanea that had collected in those chests over the years.

* * *

_

_The dark-haired young woman stepped into a grassy clearing and looked around. 'This looks like a good place to train.'_

_She closed her eyes and held her arms out before her in meditation. Her steady breathing could be seen through the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the white tee shirt she wore. The cool afternoon breeze rustled the folds of her shirt and black pants. Her bare feet tingled from the grass dew that still remained even after the sun's morning rays. Occasionally would the birds twitter cheerfully, reveling in nature's purity, before swiftly returning to their warm nests and holes, shelters from the cold._

_She and nature seemed to feel as if they were one._

_But this peaceful silence was shattered by the rough voices of several men a short distance away. Coarse expletives, followed by wild, unrestrained laughter, rang through the forest. Soon, a group of young men entered the clearing where the young woman stood._

_Dropping her arms to her sides, she glared at the disruption with piercing pale gray eyes._

_"Oi, oi, what do we have here?" remarked one of the men, noticing her presence._

_"Are you all alone?" another asked, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look at her body._

_Still shooting a disapproving glare in their direction, she turned, picked her shinai up off the ground, and began to walk away._

_Two more men stepped in to block her path. "Oi, it's rude to just ignore someone who's talking to you."_

_"And if I don't want to talk?" she snapped testily._

_"Not even a small chat?" a man wearing a black bandanna around his head—most likely the leader of the pack—asked._

_"Get out of my way."_

_Their faces darkened._

_"And who's gonna make us? You?" the leader asked, his demeanor becoming nasty. "Not with that stupid bamboo stick you got there."_

_The men stepped closer, their grins malicious.

* * *

_

_The green-haired man had been taking a twenty-kilometer jog when he heard voices up ahead. He slowed to get a better look. A group of men stood together in the small clearing where he usually trained; among them stood a dark-haired woman._

_'Oh, shit, not her again.' With a sigh, he stepped forward._

_"Oi! You!" he called out. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

_

_The woman turned and saw the man with moss-colored hair. "Zoro-san…"_

_"Leave us the hell alone!" the leader hissed. "Go mind your own business, unless you wanna get hurt!"_

_"These guys giving you trouble at all?" His question, of course, was rhetoric as he drew the two swords at his side._

_Eyeing the intruder with malevolence, the group of men pulled out various knives and revolvers._

_"No," the woman replied nonchalantly. "No trouble at all."_

_As everyone stared at her, she took the awkward moment to her advantage. Whipping around, she struck the men behind her with the shinai in her hand, knocking them to the ground. Then she proceeded to assail the rest of the men while they stood gaping. Within minutes, the entire group was down for the count._

_She turned to face the green-haired man, propping her shinai against her left shoulder as she brushed back a stray lock of hair. "See? No trouble at all."

* * *

_

**Well, what do you think?**

**:D

* * *

**

**Here are the review replies!!**

Darkmaster2—Yes, I am!! High on One Piece music!!! As always, I'll live with your rambling…for now. And shush, you; Oda-sensei is not **that** much of a queer… ;;

Thank you for your support, Makoto Kasumi-chan and **Risika**!!!


	4. Ch 3 Reunion

**_Calm Tempest  
_A One Piece Fan Fiction  
By Sacred Sakura**

**Title Conceptualized: 1/18/2007  
Story Conceptualized/Written: 4/3-4/2007, May 2007, late June 2007, 7/1-2/2007  
Published: 7/13/2007**

**Rating: T  
Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance  
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece; Oda-sensei does. I wish I did, though. However, this story and all characters not original to One Piece do belong to me.**

**Dedication: To Darkmaster2 for your, eto, "support"… and…TO MY WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL REVIEWERS!! (Please review more.) Arigatou times a thousand, Nehszriah-chan!!**

**A/N: Ehhhhh…. I had writer's block and stress… Gomen…. AND AP TESTS, TOO!! OMG, IT WAS COMPLETE AND UTTER JIGOKU!! And then I moved...IN THE RAIN...and caught a cold... Then exams...AUGGGHHHHHHHHHHH...  
Please review! They're my only sustenance these days… (Review replies are at the end of the chapter.)  
Haha, sorry, but I felt like being mean to Tashigi and Zoro this chapter. To all you Taachan and Zoro-sama fans...gomen...**

--

**Chapter Three: Reunion**

_He peered furtively from behind an oak, biding his time. He needed **him** to be alone, lest he further lose his pride in front of everyone._

_Shiei sat upon a flat boulder in the lotus position, his hands resting on his knees, head tilted back to embrace the entity that was nature. It was the only 'being' in this world he could trust and depend upon. Life had taught him that. **That man** had taught him that._

_Zoro stepped out from behind his hiding place. "Oi, you!"_

_The dark-haired boy, his eyes closed, did not look back. "Hn... 'Zoro,' I believe you are called? What is your business with me? Have you come to suffer defeat again?"_

_The green-haired swordsman clenched his teeth, infuriated by Shiei's aloof indifference and self-surety. And...the potential damage to his own pride. "I...I wanna know... How were you able to detect my attacks and deflect every blow—**blindfolded?!"**_

_"... For what reason do you ask? Want of strength and skill? Because you hate losing? Or perhaps..." Shiei half turned his head, his fingers partially covering the half of his unreadable countenance that faced Zoro. "...the reason lies deeper, far beyond the capacity of the shallow and empty of soul?"_

_The image of a raven-haired girl, silver tears pooling in her dark gray eyes, suddenly appeared in the green-head's mind. His hands tightened into fists, his heart beginning to pound._

_Shiei lowered his hand and stared off across the river before him, his ashen gray eyes gazing off meditatively into an unseen world. "Come to me again at this time tomorrow. I will tell you then."_

--

The village she had before seen only behind restricting screen panels had changed little in the past eight years. Like in all other small seaport towns, people, livestock, dust, and chatter rambled about its thoroughfares. Hawkers cried their wares; fishmongers announced their latest catches. Haggard mothers struggled to carry bulky grocery bundles while simultaneously trying to keep their rambunctious children in check. Shopkeepers spoke with neighboring proprietors and frequent customers while sweeping the ground in front of their stores. Stray animals and loose livestock wandered the streets.

All seemed happy and full of life.

But this appearance of cheer and fulfillment was merely a facade, as she knew all too well. A pottery salesman looked furtively up and down the street, wary. The tailor stood before his entrepreneurship with the appearance of simply sweeping away dust—yet his frail, wrinkled hands were trembling all the while. A mother and two small children scurried across the street, constantly looking over their shoulders. No children played in the streets. And when she passed a nervous-looking villager, he eyed her with wary suspicion.

And fear.

'Things haven't changed much since last, have they?' she mused, pulling the brim of her hat down low. 'Somehow, I'm hardly surprised...especially considering the fact that **he** still controls these seas.'

She entered a small shop, her hand running along the faded wooden wall with a faint sense of familiarity. A comforting scent of cedar mixed with mint, lavender, and various mysterious herbs soothed her senses. It seemed like ages since she had last set foot here.

"May I help you?" A young woman about fifteen years her senior had stepped out from a back room, wiping her wet hands dry with a fluffy white hand towel. She wore a deep red kimono adorned with silvery-blue thread and sakura blooms tied tightly around her waist with a narrow black obi. A burgundy kimono embroidered with gold and silver thread was loosely draped over her thin shoulders. The abundance of red in her apparel accentuated the lavender hue in her violet eyes.

**"...Kaori-sama..."** Arashi breathed, her voice a bare whisper.

Indeed, it **had** been too long. Seeing that familiar face invoked a fluxation of memories and emotions. Anger. Hate. Sadness. Grief. Confusion. Vengeance. Pain. Torture. Sorrow... Regret.

The woman's brow furrowed as she brushed a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. "Do I know you...?"

"Kaori-sama...I..." She raised the brim of her hat ever so slightly, revealing her odd ashen gray eyes. "...have returned..."

The woman paled and dropped her hand towel in surprise. "...Arashi...!!" 'No!! it can't be!!'

"Kaori-sama...I am sorry...but...Yakusoku-sama...is dead." Her eyes dropped with guilt. "He's been dead for seven years."

**"You must leave!!"** Kaori's face became pinched, tight, pallid. She raggedly skirted around the wooden counter, desperation in her eyes. **"He** must not find you here!!"

"But—"

The older woman pushed Arashi away, toward the door. **"Go!"**

A conflicted expression flitted over the younger woman's face, then disappeared as she whisked out the doorway in a flutter of whispering cloth.

Kaori sighed softly and, returning to the counter, bent down to retrieve the fallen towel. As she rose, she turned her head slightly in the direction of the sound of light footsteps behind her. A man languishing in a black kimono tied loosely around his waist leaned against the doorframe behind the counter. Playing with a lock of his long night-black hair, his steel-gray gaze flitted over her slender form.

"Who was that?" he inquired with an air of disinterest.

"Customer." She did not turn to look at him, knowing that if he looked into her eyes, he would **know**. And of all things that she had to keep from him, Arashi's return was foremost. "They didn't buy anything."

"Really? That's rather rude," the man remarked, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her waist.

She shrugged, ignoring the man's advances as he commenced nuzzling her neck. She prayed he would become so immersed in his amorous caresses, that he wouldn't notice the slight trembling of her hands. "They just didn't need what they came for as much as they thought."

"Mmmm..." the man murmured distractedly, so occupied with disrobing her that he no longer paid attention to her words.

Kaori sighed. "Let's go to the back, where it's more comfortable," she pressed, directing the amorous man through the door.

As she braced herself for another night of lascivious bedroom activity, a thought of concern for the young woman she'd sent away briefly came before instinct immediately shoved it away into the darkest corner of her mind.

'Arashi...please...never, **never** return to this terrible place. Only pain and suffering wait for you here.'

--

"N-no way..." the marine whispered, his face paling. "It can't be..."

"Eh? What the hell's wrong? Spit it out!"

The marine quickly saluted to the cigar-smoking captain standing before him. "Ca-Captain Smoker! Sir!! Do you recall that time in Loguetown when our unit was defeated by an alleged bounty hunter?"

"At the same time that we were pursuing Mugiwara? What about it?"

He showed Smoker the topmost leaflet from the stack of new bounties that had arrived that morning. Depicted below the words "WANTED" was an artist's rendition of a dark-haired young man garmented in dark-shaded kimono, the subject's raven hair billowing in an unseen breeze. **"It's the same man!!"**

"Eh? Smoker-san?" asked a dark-haired woman who had just walked in. She quickly made to straighten the hem of her navy blue blouse. "What's going on?"

"Tashigi. You should look at this."

The woman adjusted her red-framed glasses. "Uh, sure." Leaning over Smoker's shoulder, she read, "'WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE: KANSHI EISHI. 70,000,000 Beri. For assaulting a marine captain, nonadherence to marine laws, impersonating a marine, and various other offenses.'"

She looked at Smoker questioningly. "Who is this Kanshi Eishi? I've never heard of him before."

"Any idea who called for the bounty?" Smoker asked the marine, ignoring Tashigi's query.

The sergeant shuffled through some papers. "Er...a 'Captain Myome,' sir."

Smoker growled. "That bitch? Usually it's the other way around with her."

"Smoker-san, do you know this woman?" inquired Tashigi, her manner suddenly stiff.

"I met her once," replied the silver-haired captain, "and I hope I never see her again. She's utterly abused her power as a marine captain; I'm surprised she hasn't already reached the rank of Commodore by now."

"I see..." Tashigi murmured, relieved. Then, realizing that the subject in her head was completely different from the topic of the conversation at hand, she flushed a deep crimson.

"But it **is** pretty strange that none of us have ever heard of this Kanshi..." Smoker mused amidst a haze of cigar smoke. "How'd he get a bounty like this so quickly?"

Sweat drenched the pallid sergeant. He couldn't say for sure one-hundred percent, but he suspected, and with good reason, too. Kanshi's eyes, he remembered, glowed an odd silver that stormy night. The sergeant had gone through countless wanted posters during his five years as a noncommissioned marine, and only one man possessed the very same eyes.

**_Odayaka Kageki._**

--

Kaori sighed softly as she drew up a bucket of cool well water and poured its contents into a large barrel. Faint traces of the imminent dawn began to make their appearance in the form of hazy fuschia clouds, orange-tinted mist, and a candlelight-yellow sky. She could still feel sweaty remnants from the night before clinging to her hair, skin, and disheveled clothing. A morning bath would be more than enough to cleanse the corruption drenched all over her exterior, but the grime that soiled her weary soul could never be washed away.

'How long has it been since Yaku left with Arashi?' she wondered, lowering the bucket back down for another haul. 'Seven years? Eight? It feels like an eternity, yet nothing compared to what these people have been through.'

The bucket fell into the water with a gentle splash. 'Yaku...I miss you so much... Why did you have to leave me alone to face this world? Why has Arashi returned? Did we not promise to end this curse by taking her away?'

She pulled the rope up and had begun to deposit more water into the barrel when someone suddenly spoke.

"Kaori-sama."

The dark-haired woman froze, immediately recognizing the voice's owner. "I told you..." she said shakily, staring fearfully into the water pail, knowing full well that her own voice was trembling, "...not to come back here...!!"

"Why? Because of **him?"** Arashi stepped out from within the night-shadowed wisteria grove before the well, her face blank despite the fire ignited in her silvery gray eyes. "I watched as he literally **raped** you last night! It was sickening!!"

"... Why have you come here?" Kaori asked in resignation, trying to redirect the subject toward less sensitive matters as she dumped the rest of the bucket's contents into the barrel. Of all things, she did not want to think about **that.**

"To end the curse," replied the younger woman. "What other reason would I have for returning to this hell?"

"'End the curse?'" Kaori repeated. Her features twisted into a shape of anguish. Her hands trembled again. She wanted more than anything to run away, pretend that Arashi had never returned, just continue living the wretched life she'd lived for the past ten years as Kageki's toy, and pray that the damn bastard would die any day soon. "Don't you realize? That was the entire reason why Yaku took you away! As long as the Odayaka seed did not pass on the way it has for countless centuries, there was a small chance of hope for the future of our people! As long as you remained beyond Kageki's reach, our futures were secured!"

"And when would that be?" Arashi asked harshly, reaching forward to grasp the older woman's wrist, thereby preventing Kaori from any attempt to leave. "Ten years? Twenty? **Fifty?** You know far better than I the extent of his longevity! Our entire generation will be swept away by time before he finally dies!! **That** is why I came! To secure not only the next generation's future—but **ours** as well!!"

"...by killing your own father?" Kaori murmured softly.

Arashi's face darkened. "That—that **beast**—is hardly what you'd define as parenting material!!" she hissed. "How can you think of being sympathetic toward a man like him!?"

The violet-eyed woman stared at Arashi, unable to respond to the vehemence of her words. "You think I have a choice?" she whispered, her voice cracking. 'No... Don't cry now... **Kageki** will find out... He **always** finds out...'

"Of course she has no choice," a voice suddenly declared with utter conviction. "She never did. She is unable to raise a hand—nor even a **thought**—against me. Why? Because I **own her very soul."**

The two women whipped around, startled, and faced the one man whom both loathed with inexpressible passion: Odayaka Kageki.

Dark, midnight-drowned hair flowing about the collar of a black kimono. Pale white skin glowing like a ghostly corpse. An air of overconfidence and boredom, as if there were better, more interesting things to do. And cold, icy silver eyes that offered no sympathy or mercy; only manipulation, and belief in the expendability of human life.

"Welcome home, Arashi," the dark-haired man drawled, pleasure evident on his face. "Good of you to visit after all these years."

**"YOU."** Arashi's body visibly shook with barely bridled rage. _'That man!! That damn son of a bitch!! He **killed** you, Yakusoku-sama!! He **murdered** you not in cold blood alone, but for **pleasure!!** He killed you because he was **bored!!'**_

"What? No 'I'm home, father; I missed you'? I'm hurt by your indifference." There were no hurt feelings evident in his mocking expression. "What a bad child, to not love your own father."

**"SHUT UP. JUST—SHUT UP."** She could barely restrain herself, she wanted so much to hurl herself at him, rip him to shreds, do anything to make that mocking tone, that tone so much like the serpent of Eden when it spoke to Eve, and tempted her, **cease.**

"Arashi. Do you know what happens to children who do not respect their parents?"

**_"I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO YOU!!"_** Unable to stop herself, she exploded into a whirlwind of fury and charged.

His eyes grew colder. "They are **disciplined."**

And then he became a dark blur.

--

_The morning Kourino came to the dojo, the grass was marked by a late frost. An odd chill pervaded the air, and it took everyone at the dojo half an hour longer to warm up during training than usual._

_As they had been doing for the past month, Zoro and the dark-haired young woman were again bickering over her right to spar with him. She had quickly discovered that she had been gifted with nearly unmatched agility and strength—not to mention skill—and, having soundly defeated every other student at the dojo—not to mention as well the teenaged thugs who had wanted to "have fun" with her earlier that month—, she wanted to have a match against Zoro. However, the green-haired man had been stubbornly adamant from the very beginning: **NO.**_

_"Why not?" she asked in her soft yet insistent way, twirling her shinai in irritation._

_"Because I don't want to!" he shot back, trying to walk away._

_"What? Are you afraid I'll whup your posterior to the other side of the mountain?" she challenged, pursuing him._

_"Of course not!!" He quickened his pace, making a circuit round the dojo._

_"Then why don't you spar with me? Is it because I'm a girl?" She, too, sped up._

_"It's got nothing to do with that, so leave me alone, damn bitch!" Another two circuits._

_"What is it, then? What is the reason for your not wanting to spar with me?" Another three circuits._

_Zoro finally stopped, causing her to ram right into his back. "Ow! What the hell!? Is your head made of stone or something!?"_

_"What's the reason?" She stared intently into his dark eyes, as if searching for the answer there._

_'Ah, shit, no...don't look at me with those eyes...'_

_"Is it because you're sexist? Or are you a homosexual?"_

_He did a doubletake. "What?! What the hell are you talking about?!"_

_"It would explain a lot." She crossed her arms. "All you do is drink and hang out with the other guys—but most of the time sleep like the dead—during your free time. Not **once** have I ever seen you enter a brothel or even **looked** at a female the way a man normally would. To be honest, that's unnatural in a male unless his tendencies lean in another direction."_

_**"I. AM. NOT. GAY."**_

_Their confrontation—which, by the way, could be heard by everyone in the dojo—was suddenly interrupted by shouting from the path below._

_"Ooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Seeeeeeeeennnnssseeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!! Seeeeeeeeeeennnnnnsssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!"_

_"Excuse me," the dojo sensei told the man he had been speaking to, rising. Stepping outside, he asked, "Yes?"_

_**"Sensei!!"** exclaimed the young man on the path, sweating and frantic. **"We found some guy—dunno who, but he's kinda creepy, with funky white hair and skin—unconscious and bloody by the side of the road!! He doesn't look like he's eaten for days, yet he's still alive!!"**_

_The sensei's expression grew serious. "Where is he?"_

_The young man waved toward the path behind him. "Yamada and Keiichi are carrying him right now. They'll be here any minute."_

_The sensei nodded. "Tell them to bring him into the infirmary." He faced Zoro and the young woman. "Both of you, come with me. You will be assisting with treating his wounds."_

_"Aw, hell," Zoro muttered. "And I was going to take to take a nap, too..."_

_"Come **on,"** said the young woman, taking Zoro by the ear and dragging him over to the next building._

_"Owwwwww!! Watch it, damn bitch!!"_

_"Call me that again and I'll rip that ear off."_

_"Go piss yourself!!"_

_"Zoro..." the dojo sensei began warningly._

_"Yeah, yeah, I'll **try** to be nicer..."_

_"You'd better."_

_"... Damn woman."_

_"I warned you."_

_**"OWWWWWWWW!!"**_

--

_By the time the strange guest had been bandaged to the last limb, Zoro was still rubbing at his throbbing ear, and the young woman had fallen asleep sitting up._

_"Damn woman," the moss-haired man grumbled, also seated on the tatami-matted floor. "She just shows up out of the middle of nowhere, trying to kill herself. Next thing I know, she's got no memory, she's a swordswoman, and she starts looking **way** too much like 'her.' What the hell's the deal?"_

_He shot a quick glare at her sleeping form. "And she's wearing 'her' clothes, too, dammit. If I didn't know that this wasn't a dream, I'd think that 'she'd' come back...but I know she never will."_

_"Where...the hell...am I...?" rasped a new voice suddenly._

_Zoro looked over to where the injured—and now apparently awake—young man lay. "Good, you're up." He gestured toward a saucer beside the stranger's pillow. "Water's over there. According to the doc, you're not ready to eat yet for a while, so broth is all you'll be getting for a couple days."_

_"You didn't...freaking...answer...my question..." The young man paused briefly to down the saucer's contents, ignoring the obvious bitter taste of medicine. "Where...the hell am I?"_

_"Shimoshiki village dojo."_

_"...and where the hell's that? Never heard of it." He smirked, brushing back the long white bangs that covered over half his face. "Must be a pretty shitty dojo if a dojo yaburi-ka like me has never heard of it."_

_His cocky comment pissed Zoro off. **"Oi!! I dare you to say that again!!"**_

_"Gladly."_

_Before the white-haired young man could continue, however, the dark-haired woman awoke. "Eh...? Zoro-san...? Has the patient awakened already?"_

_The white-haired young man's pale face paled further as recognition registered on his face. **"YOU!!"**_

_She gave him an odd look. "Do I know you...?"_

_**"You killed him, you damn bitch!!"** With a sudden leap, he was upon her, strangling her with both bandaged hands. A murderous look had entered his odd yellow-green eyes. **"You killed my brother!!"**_

_"Oi!" Zoro was on his feet now, his brow knotted in anger. "What the hell are you doing?!"_

_**"This whore!!"** the white-haired young man spat, tightening his grip. **"This damn whore killed my brother!! **_**Murdered_ him!! Just like all the Odayakas, she _RUINED MY LIFE!!"**

_"...There's a problem with that," pointed out Zoro. "She's a **woman.** I doubt she's ever killed anyone. Hurt them? Yes. Annoyed them to hell? Yeah, definitely. But killed them? No."_

**_"You lie!! This is the very same woman!! There's no mistaking that hair—those eyes!! Eyes of unearthly silver, their gaze more deadly than that of wolves!! Eyes that cause your very core to tremble with unreasonable fear!! Eyes that do not belong to this world, that never should have been discovered by humans!! _Those eyes are the same that stare at me RIGHT NOW!!"**

_"What is going on!?" Sensei and several other adults at the dojo burst through the door, alerted a while ago by the abnormal shouts coming from within._

_The young woman made a slight choking sound as she struggled for air, her hands desperately trying to pry her attacker's fingers from her neck._

_"What is this?!" demanded the dojo sensei, he and the other adults rushing over to pull the white-haired man away. "Why are you attacking one of my students?! Stop this immediately!"_

_'It's no use...' thought the young woman, her senses numbed by lack of air. And then, without warning, long-buried instinct took over._

_Before anyone could react, she grasped the man's forearms and flipped his body over, slamming him onto the tatami floor. Now **she** kneeled above him, her left arm crossed over his neck, while her right held his shoulder down fast. The look in her silver-glowing eyes signaled a frightening readiness to snap his neck at any moment._

_The room rang with shocked silence._

_"Oi, when did you learn to do to that?"_

_Zoro's question snapped her out of her moment of instinct, and the silver glow faded back into murky gray. "Wha...?" Horrified by what she had almost done, the young woman backed away from the white-haired man, her hands covering her mouth. Her arms trembled._

_"Forgive me!" she exclaimed. "I don't know what just came over me!"_

_As the adults helped the young man to an upright sitting position, he glared with those odd animal-like green eyes. "Don't lie to me. Your Odayaka instincts simply returned. I don't know why you're hanging around this shithole when you're supposed to be running from the Marines, but something's up. And quit acting like you don't remember anything; **I personally watched** as you took my brother hostage and stabbed him before an entire unit of marines, then carried him away to prevent us from shooting at you. And then—**YOU MURDERED HIM!"**_

_She stared in confusion, still sprawled on the floor, her hands having fallen to her sides. "'Marines?' 'Brother?' I still don't understand what you're talking ab—"_

_**"Yukino!! His name was YUKINO!! How can you not forget THAT?!"** the white-haired man yelled, fighting the hold the adults had on him. "He told me that he freaking **loved** you, that he was going to tell you his damn **feelings!!** And how did you repay him, when he never found out what you really were?! **YOU KILLED HIM, IN COLD BLOOD!! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER YUKINO!!"**_

_Her face became ashen upon hearing the name. "Yu...ki...no...?"_

_"Oi, is he telling the truth?" asked Zoro, noticing the visible change in her expression._

_She did not answer, only stared at the white-haired man. 'Why is that name familiar? Did I really—**did I truly kill his brother?!'**_

_"If...if I really am...who you say I am..." Her hands curled into fists and shook. 'If it is true that I took another person's life...' "...Then what is my name?"_

_"Arashi," he spat. "Odayaka Arashi."_

_"And...who are you?"_

_"Kourino. Yokurui Kourino."_

--

**Well, what do you think? (faints due to exhaustion)**

**Here are a few clarifications!!**

**mystic Shiei: Before you say anything, shut up. It'll get better in future chapters.**

**Arashi-Kaori interaction: Please forgive the melodrama. XD**

**Kageki: ... He's got issues. That's all I can say, really.**

**sexist Zoro: Sorry, I just wanted to poke fun at my favorite moss-haired swordsman. Although...part of it DOES make sense, considering the fact that he seems to dislike most of the women in his life (except for Kuina).**

**"Freaking": Whenever the characters say this, they mean the harsher version; I don't feel comfortable leaving those in there without upping the rating. But then, that's just me.**

**dojo yaburi-ka: A dojo yaburi is a dojo challenge, but I couldn't find the term for an actual dojo challenger, so I improvised... (cough cough)**

**the white-haired young man: He has issues, and for good reason, too.**

**her name: FINALLY!! I was getting sick of saying "young woman" so many times. XD**

**Yokuri Kourino: It's actually spelled "Koorino" in Japanese, with variations of "Kohrino" and "Korino" with a macron or circumflex in roumaji, but the name looked weird, so I changed it to "Kourino." (The fact that it's technically incorrect bothers me, but oh well...)**

--

**Review Reply-ness!! Yay!!**

**Nehszriah—Yes, Zoro is involved. I'm doing my best to avoid turning it into or letting it become one of those icky Mary Sues.  
Sorry I confused you; then again, this IS a very confusing fanfiction—mainly because it hasn't progressed far enough to make sense, as well as due to the fault of the (COUGH) author's inability to produce a better manuscript for it. But I'm glad you weren't confused for long.**

--

**REMEMBER: NEXT UPDATE IS END OF AUGUST!! (Maybe sooner, but that's not likely. It really depends on whether I update my other fics on time. Check my profile for more accurate updates.)**


	5. Ch 4 Breath

_**Calm Tempest  
**_**A ****One Piece**** Fan Fiction  
By Sacred Sakura**

**Title Conceptualized: 8/15/2007  
Story Conceptualized/Written: 7/19/2007, 8/15/2007  
Published: 8/16/2007**

**Rating: T  
Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance  
Disclaimer: I wanna own ****One Piece****...but I don't. ODA-SENSEI WA SEKAI ICHI!!! (double peace sign)**

**Dedication: I love my reviewers; you guys give me hope. Thank you for reviewing!!! (tears of happiness) Kudos to Nehszriah and devilstail! Glad you enjoyed Zoro!**

**A/N: Procrastination with AP summer homework combined with writer's block sucks. BUT!!! I found out Dojo Sensei's real name!!! KOUSHIROU!!! Whoo-yeah!!! Yet somehow, Koushirou and Tohkuu's conversation wrote itself... --;; Nooooo...  
****I love reviews. Don't review, and you're no longer on my invisible favorite people list.  
****That, and I don't feel inspired to update this fic before another one of my six or seven epic-fics. (goggle-eyed) Oh, the stress...**

**-------**

**Chapter Four: Breath**

_"I came." He fixed a steely gaze on the youth before him. "So what's your secret?"_

_He was given an ambivalent half-smile. "I have many secrets—perhaps too many to count." The odd smile lessened in degree. "Too much for any one soul to bear, according to Yakusoku-sensei."_

_"Quit messing around!" the moss-haired boy shouted angrily. "You told me to meet up with you again today, at this exact spot, promising you'd tell me how you've become so strong! So quit saying useless shit and __**cough up some answers!!!"**_

_The other child softly uttered a single word under their breath._

_"Wait a minute." The boy's brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief. __**"Say again?"**_

_They repeated their utterance, slightly louder this time. _**"'Breath.'"**

**-------**

She could feel immense pain shrieking throughout the entirety of her body. Unimaginable pain. Familiar pain. Numbing pain.

Her strength had left her long ago. The heavy metallic taste and stench of her own blood spoke volumes of her impending death.

Death.

She wanted to laugh in self-deprecation.

All these years of struggling to survive, struggling to **live.** Gone. Whisked away by time, by suffering, by sadness...by **revenge.**

And in the end, vengeance was not hers to take. It was something she **couldn't** take.

Because Kageki was too strong. He was **always** too strong. No matter how much she trained, no matter how desperately she sought atonement—Kageki would always be there, blocking her path to some semblance of peace.

Even as a child she knew that as long as Kageki lived, **no one**—not her, not Yakusoku, not Kaori, not anyone who was connected in some way to the Odayaka clan—could sleep guilelessly. **He** was the cause of everyone's pain and suffering. **He** utterly destroyed any hope of a happy love between Yakusoku-sama and Kaori-sama. **He** brought on Yukino's death—and Kourino's eternal hatred.

That man, that...**monster...** In trying to create a killing monstrosity—a **shinigami**—her father had turned his very own daughter into a horrid, despicable creature like himself.

She had sought to punish that shinigami's father. But she failed. All that awaited her now...was **death.**

"Any last words, Arashi?" purred that sickly sweet and silky voice she had run from all these years.

Yes, all she had to look forward to now was death. What else was there to live for? She had lost everything to this man; nothing remained on this earth that she could continue to cherish, so long as he lived.

"Any last words before I send you to the depths of Hell, prodigal child of mine?"

It was ironic. She had become a shinigami, and now she would die by the hands of one.

"Fate..." she rasped, straining for just one more breath.

The blade was raised. The blade that had been meant for Kageki, now dripping with her blood alone, while he remained unscathed.

'Yukino...'

The sharp, diamond-hard steel weapon swung back. Light from the harsh noon sun glinted off its edge.

"...is a cruel and unforgiving taskmaster."

The blade fell.

'...I am sorry.'

No pain. Just blackness.

**-------**

_"Koushirou-san."_

_The cup was at his lips, yet the seriousness of the man's tone forced him to pause. He lowered the cup to his lap._

_The man seated before him continued, recognizing his placid manner as acknowledgment to continue._

_"Are you certain it is wise to allow The Girl to continue residing with us, especially considering the accusations that The Patient has made against her?"_

_"Well, the students certainly seem to enjoy her presence regardless," Koushirou replied lightly, half-joking._

_"He accused her of __**murder,"**__ the other man hissed. He stroked his mustache in nervousness._

_"Ah, but she does not recall having ever done such a thing," the bespectacled man pointed out._

_"Her reaction to that Kourino fellow's presence proves otherwise. Remember what happened when he tried to strangle her? The way she defended herself—In all my years of training and traveling, I've never seen such speed and...__**coldness."**_

_"Again, she has told me that she has no idea what happened. In her words, _'It seemed as if I was possessed by instinct.'"

_He snorted. "All lies. She must have an ulterior motive for coming here."_

_"What motive could she have? Besides, Zoro found her with her wrist slit in the mountains. The doctor himself said that there were no other injuries to her body, save near-death due to heavy blood loss."_

_"Yet that would coincide very well with Kourino's story. A woman murderer or thief or something of the sort kills an innocent young man, then kills herself when she realizes the horror of what she's done. Say, did Zoro find another body anywhere nearby?"_

_"... Yes, he did. His description matches that of Kourino's brother. However, it was already snowing quite heavily in the mountains that week, so the corpse is most likely buried beneath several fathoms of snow by now. Honestly, I don't know what Zoro is thinking when he goes off on these long training periods, when we all know that his sense of direction is extremely poor..."_

_"I still don't think it is safe for any of us to allow her further residency in this town, much less this dojo."_

_"She is still recovering. My conscience would not allow me to release her sooner."_

_"Recovering? You call expertly wielding a shinai as if it were a plaything __**recovering?"**_

_Koushirou remembered his tea and took a sip. Lukewarm. "Tohkuu. Have you ever noticed that Arashi holds her chopsticks with her right hand?"_

_The man snorted. "Doesn't just about everyone?"_

_"Well, I find it odd that she also __**instinctively reaches for her shinai with her right,**__ yet stops herself and holds it with her left hand."_

_Tohkuu shrugged. "Must be a weird habit of hers."_

_The dojo sensei shook his head. "I've seen the wound. It has healed into a scar now, but it throbs red at night. An...__**angry**__ red. She tries to hide it, but she is still in pain."_

_"Be sympathetic to her all you want, but I've been checking up on her background since yesterday's incident." Tohkuu pulled out a tattered and worn poster from within his blue shirt and tossed it before the bespectacled man._

_The poster's faded words read: WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE: ODAYAKA KAGEKI. 700 million Berii. For becoming a major threat to the safety of the peoples of the Grand Line._

_Koushirou glanced sharply in the gray-haired man's direction. "And you are certain that this is not a fake?"_

_Tohkuu snorted. "Of course it isn't. If you look carefully at the bottom right-hand corner just outside the photo, you can see Marine Headquarters' official watermark." He fell silent for a moment to let the sudden enormity of the situation sink in, then put up his inevitable question._

_"What will you do now?"_

**-------**

_"You wanted to know more, witch?!" His pale green eyes blazed as he pressed her head further into the stream. "Learn what I experienced __**every single day**__ as a Kanshisha!!! Maybe—if you're that damn lucky—you'll get to say 'hi' to my brother—__**ON THE OTHER SIDE OF HELL!!!"**_

_Strong arms suddenly reached out and shoved him off of her limp body._

_**"What the hell do you think you're doing?"**__ growled a livid Zoro._

_"Getting my revenge, what else?!" Kourino spat._

_"Not while you're staying here only because Sensei pities a pitiful wretch like you," the moss-haired man retorted. "Now leave."_

_The albino snorted. "So you can screw her while she's out? Sorry, but I've already got that covered."_

_**"WHAT?!"**__ Zoro had the younger man by the collar._

_"Feh." Kourino rolled his eyes. "Like I'd even **want** to screw that bitch. God, you must have it for her really bad if you want to murder me that much."_

_Infuriated by his attitude, the tan-skinned man tossed him to the ground. Hard._

_"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, and I don't give a damn either." Zoro bent down to examine the limp form that was Arashi. "Crap, she's not breathing."_

_Without giving much thought to the possible ramifications of his actions, Zoro struck his palm on the area of the woman's belly immediately below her ribs. The young woman twitched, then lurched into a coughing fit as she expelled water from her lungs. Once relieved of the water, she opened her eyes to find the moss-haired man kneeling beside her._

_"...Zoro-san...?" 'What...happened...?'_

_"You okay?" His dark eyes flashed. "That damn bastard's gonna pay..."_

_Her gaze softened as pieces began to come back. Resting her head on his chest, she murmured softly, "Thank you..." before promptly passing out._

**-------**

**Well, what do you think? (faints due to exhaustion...and because I simply want to sleep)**

**Here are a few clarifications!!**

**"Breath"?****: Remember the Alabasta fight Zoro vs. Mr. 1? The ability to cut steel? Yeah. If you studied One Piece with the diligence of a true otaku, you know and remember what I'm talking about. If you don't know what the whole "Breath" deal is—GO BRUSH UP ON YOUR ONE PIECE!!!**

**Wait, the main character is dead?!?****: Umm...no... The next few chapters will hopefully clarify things.**

**Tohkuu****: Originally a supporting character, he will soon be playing an integral role in this fanfic.**

**Sappy moment****: I'm sorry... I had writer's block...**

**-------**

**NEXT UPDATE IS: November 2007!!!**


	6. Ch 5 Illusions and Insanity

**_Calm Tempest__  
_A One Piece Fan Fiction  
By Sacred Sakura**

**Title Conceptualized: 8/17/2007  
Story Conceptualized/Written: 8/16, 17/2007, 11/11-13/2007, 12/27-28/2007  
Published: 12/28/2007**

**Rating: T  
Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance  
Disclaimer: I wanna own One Piece...but I don't. If I did, I'd be living happily in Alabasta tripping over random things and bumping into random marines all the time.**

**Dedication: Kudos to animelover and Nehszriah, last chapter's reviewers!  
A/N: Yay! Zoro finally shows up in the present timeline! (of the story, not the series) I am so sorry that this chapter is unbearably late, but you know how school is for someone trying to apply for a college with TOTALLY AWESOME JAPANESE, ENGLISH, AND LINGUISTICS PROGRAMS! HD Wish me luck, and don't forget to R&R constructively!**

**

* * *

****Chapter Five: Illusions and Insanity**

_"Must you go?" The dark-haired man's brow furrowed with concern. "It has only been a few weeks… Do you not think it is too soon to be leaving?"_

_The other man shook his head. "We have remained here for too long. Already we are beginning to leave 'traces.'"_

"_I still do not believe this is wise, but I have no choice but to trust your judgment." He paused, hesitant to utter the question on his lips._

_The cloaked man already sensed what he was about to ask. "I am afraid I cannot tell you our next destination without endangering you and your pupils. The most I can say…is that we'll be stopping at other sea ports before moving on to the other Blues."_

_The bespectacled man nodded slightly, acknowledging that he understood. "Very well. I must not take any more of the little time you have left. Farewell, dear comrade."_

"_May we meet again."_

_As the two cloaked figures hurried across the long grass under cover of darkness, a pair of eyes stared after them. A faint shaft of moonlight shone on the figure's hand, revealing a black cloth that glowed green in his clenched fist._

**

* * *

**"_So I'm leaving 'traces,' am I?" asked the smaller of the two cloaked figures once they had covered a kilometer._

"_Ara—Shiei." The older figure's voice faltered a moment at the slip, then became firm. "You know the consequences of becoming conspicuous. We can't afford to let down our guard at the expense of others' safety."_

"_Then why don't we stop running?" Shiei hissed, halting. "Why can't we go back—and stop that madman once and for all?"_

_Yakusoku was forced to stop. "You're not strong enough to defeat him. You'll never become that strong until we enter the Grand Line—and **that** we can NEVER do." He picked up the pace once more._

"_Why?" Shiei did not move. "Because you're trying to 'protect' me? Sorry, but I'm certain we both know you can't shield me from Kageki forever. You're becoming weaker and weaker each day; how much longer you'll be able to travel, I don't know, but you don't have very long."_

_The ash-haired man looked back, stopping again. "Shiei—"_

"_And don't try to feed me that shit about my not being strong enough. **You're** the very reason why I'm not strong enough, what with your over-protectiveness and all. Face it, Yakusoku." The prefix was left hanging. "You're holding me back. It's time I take control of my own future."_

_The stillness that hovered between them threatened to weigh the weaker down. The pale and dim moonlight cast ragged shadows over the two people and the beach surrounding them. The night-stained waves splashed loudly, but they heard nothing._

"_You're right." He seemed to grow older with those words, more weary. "It's true that I've been striving toward protecting you. But perhaps you're right about another thing as well; that it may have been the worst thing I could ever do for you." He gritted his teeth against the anguish that threatened to overwhelm him. "I've been wrong to hinder your progress…but it was all I could think of since the day we escaped."_

_His knees sank into the sand as the desire to keep going left him. He suddenly felt as old as a man of a hundred years. "I…I don't… I don't know what to do anymore." He buried his face in his hands, appearing to Shiei as vulnerable as a child of five. "I'm sick of running, Arashi. I'm sick of living in fear all my life, worrying endlessly about you and Kaori and all the others we've come in contact with…"_

"_Yakusoku-sensei…" Shiei did not know how to react._

"_I'm sick of this world, Arashi. I'm sick of everything that made and makes and will make this world the way it is. I just…I just want to go **home****."**_

**

* * *

**She awoke. 

She awoke to the warmth of clean bed sheets and a merrily crackling fire. She awoke to the sounds of rustling and bustling from the adjacent room, and to the tantalizing aroma of a bowl of soup on the tray beside her. She awoke to an unfamiliar wood-paneled ceiling, unfamiliar golden sunlight streaming through the open window, and unfamiliar hot pink pajamas on her person.

She awoke to an illusion.

It **had **to be a figment of her imagination, a product of insanity and deceit. It couldn't...it couldn't be...**real.**

Because she was dead.

Kageki had stripped her of her humanity, her peace of mind, and...her life.

She was dead. So where was she now? Heaven?

No, that was not possible. After all the lives she had taken—out of revenge, anger, desperation—, she did not deserve passage to the place where only the good of heart went. Her heart was black ice, and nothing so pure could ever accept an anathema so rank with impurity as her.

So, then. Hell?

The indescribable feeling of warmth and serenity that the room exuded evinced otherwise.

'Then...I must be in purgatory,' she finally decided. 'Although why I am to seek atonement in this...**kind** place...is beyond me...'

Arashi's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door across the foot of her bed. An unfamiliar woman entered, a thin old crone who appeared to have been endowed with youthful vigor—and a magnificent bust. She wore a white peasant blouse containing simple red ribbon trim with a matching red skirt. Also matching was the wide red ribbon tied about her silver-haired head. Her moderately wrinkled countenance brightened to see that the young woman was awake.

"So, dearie, how was that nap of yours?" she asked, striding forward with a light tapping of her walking stick, as if it was there only as an accessory. "Out like a log for nearly three days straight," she cackled with amusement.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

She cackled again. Arashi noticed that while the old woman's left eye was a vivid emerald green, her right opened only halfway and was a milky lime color.

"Well, you ain't in Heaven, and you ain't in Hell. You ain't in no purgatory either," the elderly woman replied, continuing to chuckle. "Truth be told, you're on the island of Háifoss. Welcome to my tavern, the Wandering Bird. Name's Makoto." She put forth a hand that looked much too young for her age. "Yours?"

"... Arashi." Awkwardly, the dark-haired girl took the hand and shook it. "I'm...still alive? I don't understand... How can that be? Last I remember, I..." She trailed off, unable to comprehend her situation.

"You'd lost nearly half your blood and were wounded like no tomorrow," Makoto finished for her. "Practically dead, but thanks to ol' Makoto here and that friend of yours—"

"What friend?" Arashi asked sharply, her gaze narrowing.

The elderly woman shrugged. "Beats me. All I know is, a young woman wearing a cloak carried you to my doorstep, asked for help, then collapsed. Pretty young thing, not much older than you, I'd say, and similar looks—pale white skin, silky black hair, slim yet firm build—save for those lovely violet eyes of hers."

'Kaori-sama...!!!'

"Anyways," continued Makoto, not noticing the shock that had manifested itself on Arashi's face, "I did my best in treating the both of you, but when I checked up on the young lady the next morning, she was gone."

"Kaori...sama..." Arashi's hands trembled.

"Oya, oya, what's this?" asked Makoto, finally taking notice of the girl's reaction. "What's the matter? You know something about this 'Kaori'?"

"She...she went back..." Arashi whispered hoarsely. A look of abject terror filled her eyes. "Why...did she go back? Didn't...didn't she realize the **consequences?** She'll...she'll **die** there! He'll **kill** her! That **monster**...will **kill her!!!"**

"Oya, oya, what do you think you're doing?!" Makoto demanded, alarmed, as Arashi attempted to climb out of bed. "You're in no condition to go anywhere! And what's this about a monster?!"

Arashi was frantic now, desperate and beyond reason. **"He'll kill her! He'll kill her if I don't—if I don't—"**

And then it hit her. "She's...already dead." She sank back down on the bed as reality finally penetrated her disbelieving mind. 'I should have realized...' "I'm too late."

And then she passed out.

**

* * *

**She passed her days of recovery in a monotonous cycle of eating, sleeping, and reading whatever Makoto had on hand, from _The Tale of Genji_ to various trashy romance novels—any movement that would bring about more pain from her healing wounds and thus distract her from thoughts of her past. But at some point in time, the voice in her head coldly reminded her, she would heal, and everything would flood her very sanity and overwhelm her. 

Somehow Makoto must have sensed this, for as soon as she could make her way to the bathroom without uttering a single moan of pain, Arashi was immediately put to work at the Wandering Bird. First sweeping, then cleaning, then washing dishes and taking out the garbage. The soul-weary girl welcomed it all, if only for the sake of distraction.

By the end of the weak, she was promoted to waiting tables. Taking orders, carrying in trays of food and sake, taking out the remnants of customers' dining enjoyment, and ensuring that the tavern was at peace—in more ways than one.

"Make sure that bust of yours ain't spilling out when you're out there," warned the elderly woman as she straightened the front of Arashi's indigo-blue blouse and smoothed down the creases of her flowing dark brown skirt. "'Cause you gotta watch out for the pervs. They come in all shapes and sizes."

"That's…very comforting…"

"For starters, you got the Starers, who are bound to make a newbie like you uncomfortable. Then there are the Talkers, who like to voice their 'preferences.'"

"…but Makoto-baa…"

"Then you got Slappers—pretty easy to figure out what they do—and Gropers. They fit in the same category, in my book."

"…I am certain I can take care of my self just fine…"

"But worst of all are the Stalkers and Doers. Those you **definitely** gotta watch out for. If you don't keep your guard up, they'll either scare the living daylights out of you—or **worse."**

Arashi sighed. "Makoto-baasan, do you have any idea exactly **why** Kaori-sama dragged me all the way to your doorstep, the both of us drenched in blood and fatal wounds?"

The old woman leaned casually against her cane. "I have a feeling I'm about to find out."

"It's something you should know…because I can protect myself just fine…but even more importantly…so that you know just how much it endangers your safety for me to continue living here."

**

* * *

**A medium-sized caravel sailed into port, its sleek canvas sails rippling smoothly in the cool afternoon breeze. Seven heads peered over the white railing at the mist-shrouded island before them. Beyond the ship-laden docks, they could faintly make out green hills, an ice-cold river spilling out into the ocean, and modestly yet colorfully painted buildings. They could see some people milling about in the fog, a few casually glancing toward the ship that had just arrived. 

"Yay! A port!" cheered the dark-haired boy, his eager smile ousting the size of his straw hat by ten times. "Time to get some meat!" He leaped off the ram-like figurehead and made his way toward the smell of cooking food that only he could detect from this distance.

"What, my cooking ain't good enough for you?" a blond man sneered after the running boy, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Oh, Sanji-kun…" wheedled a ginger-haired girl of eighteen, wrapping a seductive arm around the blond's neck, "we're out of some important cooking supplies; care to restock?" She dangled a small change purse from her free hand.

Sanji flushed with pleasure at her touch. "Hai! Nami-san! I shall carry out your every order!"

A green-haired man scoffed as Nami waved the giddily spinning blond good-bye. "Damn succubus, that's what you are." He ignored her pointed glare and began to walk off before she could shoot off a retort, muttering to himself, "Now where can I get some booze?"

The raven-haired woman still standing on the ship's deck smiled warmly at the diminutive reindeer. "Well, Chopper, out to buy more medicinal supplies while I watch the ship?"

"Unh," Chopper nodded in assent. "I want to see what herbs I can find that are unique to this island; I may find something useful."

"Then I'll see you all later."

"Luffy!!! COME BACK HERE!!! I WANT TO EAT TOOOOO!!!"

**

* * *

**"How the hell did I get lost?!" Zoro muttered angrily to himself as he wandered out of the dense forest he had found himself in twenty minutes previous. "I could have sworn I was going the right way…" 

A lone girl sweeping at the back door of a medium-sized building caught his eye. "Oi! You!"

The girl looked up, alarmed. She had been in the process of readjusting the black kerchief around her head, so her hand was blocking her face.

"You know where I can find a tavern?"

The girl froze, paling. Then, without a word, and using the hand that held the broom, she pointed to the building beside her.

His brow was raised at her odd behavior, but he ignored it and decided that she was probably just freaked out that he had suddenly come from the woods asking for directions. Not that he looked like a madman or anything. He was just carrying around three katana, was all. "Thanks."

As the swordsman left, Arashi stared after him from behind her arm, never lowering it until she was certain he was twenty yards from plain view. As she did, she stared at her shaking limb.

Only the shout of "Akino!"—the name she had offered a skeptical Makoto, borrowed from someone she once vaguely knew—from somewhere within the kitchen roused her from her shocked daze.

"Hai, Makoto-baasan!"

**

* * *

**Zoro recognized the girl serving tables as the same one he had asked directions from before. From a relaxed position in his chair he watched with mild interest as she flew from table to table, every once in a while rushing back into the kitchen to deliver more orders and retrieve food and drink ready to serve. At some point in time she passed his table, deftly depositing a mug of beer without so much as a pause in her step. 

But although she appeared to be ignoring him, she could not ignore the loud group of men that had just entered the tavern. They seated themselves wherever they wanted, literally tossing aside any unlucky customers sitting at their tables of choice. The biggest of the bunch—most likely the leader—pounded his fist on his table, shaking the entire tavern.

**"Oi, oi! Where the hell's my damn customer service?!"**

"I'll be right there, sir!" Arashi set down the tray in her hand and made her way to the large man's table. "What would you like?"

He gave her body a once-over and grinned wickedly. "See me at my ship, and then we can talk about what I like." The rest of his gang laughed heartily at this.

She didn't miss a beat. "I meant for a **meal**, sir."

The man wrapped an arm around her waist. "How much would it cost to eat **you** up?"

Pushing the man away, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Sir, if you're not going to place an order, then I have to ask you to leave."

"Yeah?" the burly man sneered. "How do you plan on **making** me—with that towel of yours?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Please leave. I have asked you kindly, and if you do not comply, then I am not responsible for what follows."

"And if you don't shut up and do what I say," the man growled, brandishing a double-edged dagger, "then let's just say you're not gonna be giving me that uppity tone for much longer." And then, without warning, he brought the blade down.

A collective gasp filled the room as the young woman's blouse tore open. Taken aback by his audacity, she did not immediately react when the man single-handedly hoisted her over his shoulder and left the tavern with a satisfied chuckle.

"Let's get back to the ship; it seems I'm hungry for a little company now…"

Finally returning to her senses, Arashi sent a side kick into the man's face. The burly man toppled over without a single cry escaping from his lips.

"It's your fault," retorted the dark-haired girl, straightening her posture as she subconsciously held the towel to her chest. Her gaze shifted to the rest of the fallen man's gang. "I don't suppose any of you want to disregard my warning?"

The men stared as though gob-smacked before quickly returning to their senses. Remembering to pick their leader up on the way, they fled the village, high-tailing it to the foothills to get as far away from the Wandering Bird and its crazy, superhuman waitress as possible.

She let out a breath and then gave the onlookers a deadpan look. "Well? Are you customers or not? Make up your minds."

**

* * *

**"You look familiar." 

Now wearing a sable shirt that laced in the front collar, she gave the green-haired swordsman a deadpan look. "Oh, really? Says you and every other guy in this tavern."

He growled lightly, slightly irked by her petulant response. "That's not what I meant."

The dark-haired woman held up his beer glass. "Want a refill?"

"Yeah, that would be—Hey! Don't try to change the subject!" he yelled in indignation, standing up as the waitress headed for the kitchen. He walked after her with long, loping strides.

Just as she turned the corner, he had her against the wall, his right arm outstretched above her shoulder to block her way.

"You… You look too much like her," he murmured, his dark green eyes trained on her face. "The resemblance is too striking to ignore…"

"You're in my way," she muttered softly, trying unsuccessfully to avoid his penetrating gaze.

If only his eyes weren't such a deep, dark, bottomless emerald… If only she couldn't feel so distinctly the flushed body heat that radiated from every inch of his tanned skin… If only she couldn't smell that unique blend of musk, sweat, blood, masculinity and something else that his well-defined body always exuded… If only he wasn't, well, **him.**

"What's your name?" He stared into her ash-gray eyes, intent on finding the truth.

"…Akino," she managed to say.

His eyes narrowed. "I don't mean the name you use here. I mean your **real** name."

She was about to answer, helpless against his gaze, when quite suddenly, an all-too familiar walking stick thwacked Zoro on the head. The green-haired man released a stream of colorful expletives at the pain.

"That's what you get for harassing my employees!" scolded Makoto, her normally good-natured countenance transformed into a mask of ire-ridden disapproval. "Now get out of my kitchen, you young rapscallion!"

He fled from the old woman's jabbing stick, silently cursing himself for getting carried away. Of course **she** wouldn't be here. What were the odds? One in a million, to be sure. 'I'm an idiot for even **thinking…'**

"So who was that young whippersnapper?" Makoto demanded of Arashi. "He didn't do anything to you, I hope!"

The young woman faced her guardian, saying softly, confusedly, "Someone I knew once. But he doesn't appear to remem—"

Suddenly, a loud—and shocked—voice yelled out from the tavern, **"OH MY GOD!!! IT'S RORONOA ZORO OF THE MUGIWARA KAIZOKUDAN!!!"**

"Aw, hell…"

**

* * *

**"_Take me to the place where you found me."_

"_Eh?" grunted the green-haired man, looking up from the katana he was polishing. "Oh." His voice muted into a tone of disinterested annoyance. "It's you."_

"_Well?"_

_He replaced the treasured meitou in its ivory-lacquered sheath. "What do you want to go there for?"_

_No hesitation. "Atonement."_

"_What?" Although he didn't know why, something inside him quickened. "How? By killing yourself? Not that I'd care if you did, but Sensei'd kill me."_

"_No." A pause. Fear? "An offering."_

_He sighed, annoyed that she was bothering him all the damn time._

"_All right, I'll take you."_

**

* * *

**_Two figures could be seen making their way up the snow-laden slope of Kinma Mountain. Leading the way was a tall, bronze-skinned man, green-haired, a single white-sheathed katana hanging off his green haramaki. The three golden earrings on his left ear tinkled with every step he took. Close behind walked a dark-haired woman, ivory-skinned, a steel blue kimono draped over her shoulders._

_They reached the place where he had originally found her by noon. The site was fairly plain-looking. A few rocks and trees here and there, all draped in mounds of snow._

"… _Where did you bury him?" the young woman asked softly, walking with care._

_He gestured toward a nondescript mound of snow that would have otherwise been ignored, save for the presence of a sloppily made grave marker sticking out of the ground. "There."_

_She knelt before the makeshift grave, resting a shaking hand on the pure white snow. "Yukino…" 'I'm sorry I couldn't give you a proper burial. I should never have involved you in this mess. It's…it's **my** fault you died.'_

_The woman shook, not from the cold, but from silent grief. Tears never made their way to the snow. Instead, they remained trapped deep within a dark part of her heart, the lock unbreakable and the key lost long ago._

"_Please, Yukino… Forgive me…"_

**

* * *

****Umm...how was it?**

**Clarifications and the like, you know the drill...**

**the black bandanna: **Fanon, okay? FANON. It's MY fanfic, so I can do what I like. That, and because I wanted Zoro there to witness their departure.

**Yakusoku's speech: **Corny, I know, but I had to do SOMETHING that fit this chapter's theme…

**Mugiwara Kaizokudan: **Yay! Zoro! (guilty look) …and the rest of the crew, of course. I'm sorry for skimping on Usopp's introduction to the chapter…

**the moment:** (Innocent look) What? I couldn't resist…

**Makoto's lexica:** I couldn't help it; I just HAD to have her say those words.

**the last few sections:** I seriously need to stop disrupting my sleeping patterns during my breaks. That's why (in my opinion, anyway) my chapters don't feel as great as they usually do. I'm not kidding.

**

* * *

****I pray that the fanfic gods will bless me with inspiration by either February or April 2008... (shrugs) Well, it really depends how busy I get between now and then…**


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